


Remember Me | Chapter 1/6

by sanalayla



Category: Smallville
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 08:55:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2806772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanalayla/pseuds/sanalayla





	Remember Me | Chapter 1/6

  
_“Who, What, When, Where, and Why?”_

I opened my eyes slowly, feeling the harsh lights prick against them. In response, I immediately closed them and let out a soft groan. I couldn’t tell what hurt more – my head or my hand. When I lifted it to touch my pounding skull, I realized I had an IV needle taped to my right hand. That’s why it was hurting. I sat up a bit, licking my dry lips and swallowed back another moan as pain shot through my head at the slight movement. Looking around, I saw that I was lying on a bed in one of those generic Metropolis General rooms that I was becoming increasingly familiar with.

“Lois? Oh, thank God, you’re awake,” Chloe exclaimed, causing me to wince in reaction to my cousin’s voice.

I stiffened and winced again, when Chloe reached out and engulfed me in a tight hug. “Chlo,” I managed to get out, my voice hoarse. “I love you, but you’re killing me, here.”

Chloe immediately let go and said, in a softer voice, “Sorry!” She reached out and grabbed the water jug on the table next to me and poured me a cup. “Here, drink up. This should help.”

I accepted the cup gratefully and drank down the contents in two quick gulps. Taking a few deep breaths, I surveyed my surroundings once again. This time, I was in a room with peach walls. Last time, they’d been green. I must be in a different wing of the hospital. Cringing a bit, I asked, in a somewhat wry tone, “What I’d do this time?”

Chloe grinned slightly. “You were researching a story and someone hit you over the head with the end of a gun. Then, there was a fire and you barely made it out alive. What’s the last thing you remember?”

I thought for a second, mentally reviewing the events of the past week. “Well, I’d just come back from following Lex to Detroit - of all places – and ended up finding Kara….”

“Wait, WHAT?” Chloe interjected, her voice rising again. “Lex? Kara? What are you talking about?

I looked at her curiously. “You know, I told you about my trip, Chloe. Why, did something happen to Kara again? Did Lex do something?”

Chloe’s eyes widened even more and she sat down, abruptly, on the chair next to my bed. After several seconds, she finally said, “Lois, Lex is dead. And Kara is gone….” She paused and then finished, “Lois, you took that trip two years ago.”

I stared at her incredulously for a moment and, then, burst out laughing. Something I immediately regretted, when it resulted in a sharp shooting pain permeating through my head. “Chloe…” I finally managed to say. “That’s not funny. What is this, make fun of the girl with the head injury day?”

Before Chloe could answer me, my ex-boyfriend burst into the room. “Legs! You’re all right!” Oliver entered the room, bearing flowers and a teddy bear. He quickly reached my side and bent down to kiss me on the forehead. “What is it with you and hospitals? I’m thinking of buying this wing and just having them name it after you.”

With more than a little surprise, I accepted the gifts. “Ah, Oliver? What are you doing in Metropolis?”

Oliver blinked down at me and then glanced at Chloe. “Why wouldn’t I be in Metropolis? After all, I do live here.”

I started to laugh. Yeah, like I would forget that he just left for Star City permanently. It was, after all, the reason we broke up.

Chloe gave him a look. “She doesn’t remember, Oliver.” With a frown, she turned to me and asked, “What date do you think it is?”

I let out a little huff and shook my head. “Chloe, give it up. You are not going to convince me that I’ve hopped on a DeLorean and woke up two years later.”

“Humor me, Lois,” Chloe commanded grimly. “Just tell me.”

“OK, fine. It’s February 19, 2008.” I rolled my eyes at her and took another sip of the water.

Oliver and Chloe exchanged a worried look. Chloe responded, evenly, “I’m going to be right back. Oliver, stay with Lois. Make sure she doesn’t go anywhere,” she ordered, over her shoulder, as she practically ran out of the room.

When we were alone again, I focused my attention on Oliver. He was wearing a suit, so it looked like he’d just come from a meeting. “What date does Chloe think it is?”

Oliver frowned and perched on my bed. I shifted my legs a bit to allow him more room. “It’s March 23, 2010.”

I stared at him with more than little disbelief. “No way. You guys are putting me on. Next you’re going to tell me you hung up the green leather and we’re married with three kids.” I glanced, half expecting Ashton to jump out and declare I’d been punked.

Oliver winced at that. “No. Well, I did hang up the green leather for awhile. But I’m back – mainly because of you, Lois.” He gazed at me with a look that was clearly full of affection and admiration. With a hint of something more in their green depths. After a moment, he looked way and cleared his throat uncomfortably. “I… I went down a dark path, Lois. But you brought me back.”

I considered him for a moment. I still didn’t believe what my cousin and Oliver were trying to convince me of, but I knew that there was no way he could fake the pain I felt coming from him in waves. It felt natural for me to take his hand in a gesture of comfort. When I glanced down at our hands, I couldn’t help but note how well they still fit together. I linked my fingers in his with one hand and let my fingers trail over his jaw line with the other. “Oliver – I’m sure that whatever happened, it happened for a reason. What’s important is that you’re fine, now.”

With some surprise and gratitude, he looked at me and captured my wandering hand with his own. “Lois… I…” He paused and then added, uncertainly, “You haven’t looked at me like that in a long time.”

What did that mean? How was I looking at him? My heart raced a little as I stared at the man I’d loved so deeply. It had hurt like hell when we’d broken up, but maybe…. I couldn’t help but ask, “I… I… Ollie, why did you move back? That’s why we couldn’t be together… did you,” I held my breath, wondering if I should ask the question. Should I dare to hope? “Did you move back to be with me? So we could be together?”

“Lois….” Oliver answered, not meeting my eyes. But he still kept his other hand encased in mine, as though he couldn’t bring himself to pull away completely. “I can’t….” Oliver finally looked at me and let out a sigh, as he admitted. “Yeah, a part of me moved back here because of you. But you never….”

“Oliver,” I interrupted, with a slight smile. It felt so good to hear him say it. That he came back for me. I decided to be honest about my feelings, too, and added, “You know, I told you that I didn’t want to be left behind. And you came back for me… now, that’s commitment.” I let my fingers trail down his shoulder teasingly and admitted, “I still have feelings for you. I tried to get over you, but…”

“Lois, wait!” Oliver cut in nervously. “You have no idea how much I’ve wanted to hear you say this, but the truth is that we’re not together. A lot has happened in the past two years.”

“You’re in Metropolis now, and the reason we broke up was because we couldn’t handle the long distance relationship.” I sat back and appraised him. I knew I wasn’t reading him wrong. It was clear he still had feelings for me. And I still had feelings for him. So, if he was living in Metropolis now, what was keeping us apart? My eyes widened as a horrible thought came to me. “Is it because of the hero thing? Did I not handle it well?”

Oliver let out a deep sigh. “No, actually, you’ve been really cool about it. Really supportive. The fact is that I love you, but you don’t love me.”

“Really?” I eyed him skeptically. “I don’t believe that. I know my own feelings, Ollie, and I know what I feel for you.”

“What you used to feel for me,” Oliver corrected gently. “You made a choice. And you didn’t choose me.” He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear (which was, incidentally, a lot darker than the last I checked). “Lois, you’re the first woman I ever fell in love with. You’re my first love. So, trust me when I say I remember the night you chose another man over me.”

I pretty much tuned out everything he said except for part where he admitted he loved me. “I’m your first love?” I asked, biting my lip a bit. Before I could stop myself, I leaned in, bridging the distance between us, deciding to act on all my pent-up emotions from the past few months and I kissed him. Oliver hesitated and pulled back, but my hand slid up to his neck and pulled him in closer, my fingers tangling up in his hair. After a second, he must have given up, because he began kissing me back just as urgently.

“What’s going on?” A deep, male voice demanded, cutting into the haze that had surrounded me during the kiss.

Oliver immediately broke away, jumping off the bed and taking several steps back from my bed. His breath was uneven and his cheeks were flushed. “Clark! It’s not what you think!”

Disoriented by Oliver’s sudden departure, I blinked at Clark in confusion. “Smallville?” I squinted at him, wondering where the hell he’d just come from. And kind of cursing him for his horrible timing. “What the hell are you doing here? Did Chloe call everyone in her phone book?” Then I looked him up and down, taking in his formal wear, and my brows rose in surprise. “Wow, Smallville. What are you so dressed up for? Where’s the plaid?”

Oddly, Clark didn’t respond. He completely ignored my comment and appeared to be trying to check in a deep rage. He was glaring at Oliver, who’d gotten strangely silent, and when he finally spoke, he ground out, “I don’t even know where to begin.” He glanced at me and then at Ollie. “OK, wait, I do. WHAT do you mean, it’s not what I THINK? How could this NOT be what I THINK?”

Before I could respond (and, really, I didn’t quite know what to say), Chloe came bursting back into the room, following closely by a short, dark-haired man with black glasses. He was wearing a lab coat, so I assumed he was my doctor.

Chloe carried a bundle of newspapers under her arm and a small laptop in her hands. Without ceremony, she tossed the papers onto my legs. “Here, Lois. I knew you wouldn’t believe me if I just brought you one. So, I brought you the top five.” She pulled up the latest Daily Planet and added, “See, your name. You wrote the article that made it above the fold in today’s paper.”

I took the paper from Chloe and gazed at the headline. The Blur Saves the Day… Again!! Sure enough, that was my name on the byline. I felt a flicker of pride at the sight, which was fairly short-lived because the magnitude of what Chloe was saying started to hit me. I looked up at my cousin with more than a little horror. “I can’t… Chloe… there’s no way….”

Chloe let out a sigh and put the laptop on her lap. “Google the date, Lo. Look up anything. You’ve lost your memories of the past two years.”

Clark spoke again, for the first time since Chloe had made an appearance. “What? How is this possible?” He asked, fear and worry clouding his blue-green eyes.

I looked over at him with some confusion, wondering why he was showing such an inordinate amount of concern for my well-being. I could help but feel a little touched. I mean, we’d been friends for awhile, but I had no idea he actually cared about me that much. Then again, I guess we had been friends for two years longer than I remembered, so maybe we’d gotten closer, for some reason. And he was a nice guy. He always cared about everybody a lot.

“Fine, Chloe, I believe you,” I finally said, realizing that everyone in the room was looking at me like I was a ticking bomb and I figured someone had to break the silence. “I lost two years worth of memories. In my mind, it’s 2008, but – in reality – it’s 2010.” I considered cracking a joke, but even I wasn’t that strong.

The doctor cleared his throat. “Yes, well, Ms. Lane, I’m glad you believe Ms. Sullivan, but that’s really only the first step. My name is Dr. Hamilton. May I?” He stepped closer to me and pulled out a small flashlight and began examining my eyes. Why? I’m not sure. “Hhhmm….”

“What does that mean?” I asked, starting to panic again. “I hate it when doctors do that.”

Dr. Hamilton smiled at me in a reassuring manner. “Nothing, it doesn’t mean anything.” He glanced at Clark and asked, “What’s the last memory she should have?”

For some strange reason, Clark actually knew the answer to this question. “She was in a lab when there was an explosion. Someone hit her in the back of her head and, then, the Blur managed to get her out before the fire got out of hand. The last thing she should remember is downloading the information from the computer onto a flash drive.”

I couldn’t help but stare at him in surprise. For two reasons. First of all, it was beyond bizarre that Clark had been with me when I was working on a story. (I mean, we’d barely hung out in the past few months, let alone been close enough that Clark would tag along with me while I worked.) And, secondly, I was kind of impressed I was doing such a bang-up job as a reporter. With more than a little pride, I glanced at the headline of my front page article again. “Who’s the Blur?” I asked, to the general room as a whole. “And why is he front page material?”

Chloe, Clark, and Oliver exchanged one those non-verbal communications that drove me batty. Apparently, some things never changed, even two years down the line.

Oliver cleared his throat. “Well, it looks like you’ll just have to catch up on your own articles, Lane.” He offered me one of those half-grins I always found to be quite adorable (and today was no exception). “Something tells me you’ll enjoy it.”

I grinned back at him. “Oh, Ollie, you know me so well.”

We stared at each other for a moment, like that, and I kind of forgot anyone else was in the room. For a second, it was like it used to be between us. Back when I thought Oliver was the one. The guy I’d been waiting for my whole life. At that moment, I realized that maybe he still was. And this was all a way to start over again.

Before I could sort through my feelings, Clark cleared his throat and asked, in a really loud voice, “All right. Emil, we know what’s wrong with Lois, but how do we fix it?”

Then, Clark stepped closer to my bed and grabbed my hand, squeezing it gently. With more than a little consternation, I stared down at our linked fingers and then back up at him. What was he doing? My first impulse was to pull away, but for some odd reason, I kind of felt at home in that position… his hand felt warm and comfortable. I resisted an urge to squeeze back and hold onto him more tightly. The fact that I was even having that urge freaked me out (after all, this was Clark Kent’s hand we were talking about) and, so, I tried to pull my hand away. Clark must not have gotten the memo that we don’t do the hand-holding thing, because he just tightened his grip in response. I shot him a dirty look, which he ignored. I made a note to myself to kick his ass later and then decided to tune back into the conversation the doctor had been having with him.

“… and memories are tricky things. The fact is that her head injury – one of many, I might add,” he pointed out dryly, “Seems to have caused this and I won’t know anything further until I analyze her CAT scans and take some more tests. Chances are that her memories will come back once the swelling goes down, but I can’t make any guarantees.” The doctor looked at me and said, gently, “I know its small comfort, Ms. Lane, but at least you only lost a couple of years. I’ve had patients who’ve lost whole decades.”

I let out a slight laugh. “If you knew what my past decade has been like, doctor, you wouldn’t say that.”

The doctor smiled in return and then turned back to Clark. “She’ll be going home with you, I presume? We’ll need to talk about her pain medication and….”

“Whoa, wait, you presume WRONG, Doc,” I interjected. Without pausing to think about it, I yanked my hand out from Clark’s. I registered the hurt and confusion in his eyes, which was rather odd, but I turned to Chloe, anyway. “Chloe, as much as I love the Kent farm, I’m going home with you to the Talon.” I paused and confirmed, “We do still live at the Talon, don’t we?”

Chloe glanced at Clark and then cautiously explained, “I live at the Talon. We lived together until a few weeks ago – then you moved into the farm with Clark. Because you were sleeping on the sofa in our apartment and you couldn’t find a place in Metropolis.”

“You mean, you let me move in with the love-birds?” Ironically, out of all the things I’d learned, this was the hardest for me to believe. I went to bed and woke up a couple of years older? Sure. I was a brunette again, instead of a blonde? You betcha. But this? I didn’t even bother to hold back my laughter. “No way.” Then I glanced at Clark, who was frowning at me, and added hastily, “No offense to you and Lana, of course.”

That, for some reason, made Clark grin. “Trust me, none taken.”

“Wow, Smallville, you’ve developed a sense of humor about you and Lana,” I shot back teasingly. “Now I definitely know I’ve sustained a head injury.”

His smile faded and Clark let out a sigh, his brows furrowed in concern as he stared down at me intently. “Lois… we need to talk.”

My smile faded and I couldn’t help but wince. Nothing good ever followed that phrase. And, in this case, I was right, because Chloe and Dr. Hamilton immediately made themselves scarce before Clark had even finished saying the words. Oliver was the only one who remained behind and Clark sent him a look that made it clear he expected Oliver to follow the others out the door. Oliver ignored him and turned his attention back to me.

“Lois, I’m going to head out now, but I’ll be back.” Oliver studiously avoided Clark’s gaze. “I just want you to remember what we talked about – just….” At that point, he shot a look over at Clark and finished, “Just keep an open mind.”

Keep an open mind? About what, I wanted to ask him. Then, I glanced between the two men curiously, because they seemed to be having some form of a staring contest. I blinked – for a second there, I thought I saw a flash of red in Clark’s eyes. But that was impossible. No one’s eyes glowed red. I considered him carefully for second. Red eyes not-with-standing, there was no denying that Clark, for some bizarre reason, really looked like he wanted to tear Oliver’s head off. Oliver, for his part, looked apologetic. The tension was palatable.

Finally, I just couldn’t take it anymore and I exclaimed, a little too loudly, “That’s GREAT. Ollie, why don’t you go and I’ll call you?”

Oliver forced a grin to his lips and glanced down at me. “Sure. See you later, Lois. Clark.”

When he left, I found myself alone with Clark for the first time, and the room felt really quiet. I wasn’t sure, exactly, why I had felt the need to banish Oliver instead of Clark, but something inside me felt it was more likely Oliver would walk away maimed if they both stayed in the room. Which was odd, because Oliver was the Green Arrow and Clark was…. Well, he was Clark. Farmboy couldn’t hurt a fly. I appraised him for a second and then silently revised that opinion when I saw the way he filled out his suit. I wasn’t quite sure how I’d never noticed it before, but Clark was kind of huge. And, of course, he also looked incredibly annoyed, which didn’t help create a gentle image.

As the silence lengthened between us, Clark seemed to be weighing what he was going to say next. Every once in awhile, his mouth would open and then it would snap shut. He was doing a kind of a pacing thing and, every few seconds, he’d try to sit down and then jump back up again.

I’ve never felt comfortable with silences, so I figured I’d just take the bulls by the horns, since it seemed he was having some problems coming up with material for our conversation. “So,” I asked lightly, “How goes things with Lana? I hope that me living with you doesn’t impact your domestic bliss too much.”

“Lois, Lana and I broke up a year ago,” Clark answered, after a slight hesitation. He started to add something, but then seemed to decide against it. “It’s a long story.”

Mentally, I rolled my eyes, but outwardly, I just offered him a serene smile. “I can’t say I’m surprised. You two have a tendency to do that a lot.”

Clark finally sat down on the chair next to my bed. “No, this time was different.”

“You both have a tendency to say that a lot, too,” I couldn’t help but crack. I knew my smile was widening, but I just didn’t have it in me to pretend I felt bad for them. My head hurt too much to expend the effort.

Clark let out a soft groan and dropped his head into his hands. After a second, he glanced up and rubbed his eyes tiredly. “Lois, you’re just going to have to take my word for it. Lana and I done.”

Deciding that there was nothing wrong in being cooperative, I nodded agreeably. “Sure, OK.” Then, I focused on him and studied his bent head for a moment. I frowned. It was so unlike Clark to not take an opportunity to talk about what went wrong with Lana and go into detail about all the things that made Lana wonderful, but how they couldn’t be together. Things must have a changed a bit since the last time we’d talked. Finally, not really having any idea what to say, I blurted out, “So, what did you need to talk to me about?”

Clark lifted his head, the expression on his face was one I couldn’t read, and his answer surprised me. “Why were you kissing Oliver?”

“Uhhh….” I let out a nervous little laugh and adjusted the sheets and thin blanket covering my legs. “I don’t know....He’s my ex-boyfriend and I just suffered a head trauma? He’s hot?” I suggested, only half-joking. Then, I flushed a bit, and added, “God, Smallville, I don’t really see why it’s any of your business.”

“See, that’s the thing,” Clark answered evenly. His eyes flashed with something indefinable. “It kind of is.”

Amused by his need to go into over-protective brother mode, I couldn’t help but lift one brow coolly and I drawled, “Oh? And why would that be?”

“Because you’re my girlfriend,” Clark answered flatly.

My jaw dropped in shock and confusion for several moments. And, then, I answered, succinctly, “No way in hell, Smallville.”

***

 

I walked into the Kent farm with some trepidation. Which was odd, within and of itself, because I usually found the Kent farm to be a safe haven. I tried not to let my conflicted feelings show as I followed Chloe and Clark through the back door.

Chloe turned to face me once I’d settled on one of the stools at the kitchen island. “Well,” she said, inordinately cheerful, “I think you’re good here.” She exchanged a look with Clark and added, “I’ll just leave you two to…” she paused and then added tactfully, “… catch up.”

My panic rose as the words and their meaning sunk in. “Catch up?” At the moment I didn’t really care what Clark thought or his feelings. I just wanted to get the hell out of there. I turned to him and offered him one of my very fake smiles. “Smallville, do you mind if I talk to Chloe alone for a second?”

Clark, being who he is, immediately said, “Of course.” Then, he made a hasty retreat to the living room, leaving Chloe and me alone.

I jumped down from the stool and grabbed my cousin’s arm, moving her even further away from the living room to speak to her in an undertone. “Chloe, I have an idea. Why don’t you just stay here and I’ll move back to the Talon?”

Chloe looked like she was enjoying herself a little too much at my expense. “Lois, the doctor said that you need to make your life return to normal as much as possible, remember?”

As if I could forget.

“And,” she continued, with a little gleeful gleam in her eyes, “That doesn’t include me living with Clark while you’re off at the Talon. That’s the opposite of normal. Remember?”

Again, as if I could forget. “Chloe, I don’t think it’s a good idea….” I began, not exactly sure how to convey why I didn’t think it was a good idea, but I was convinced, none the less, that it wasn’t.

“What’s going to happen?” Chloe interrupted. “This is Clark. It’s not like he’s going to jump you.” She stopped and then added, almost as an afterthought, “Well, unless you ask him to.”

I closed my eyes in horror at the mental images her words conjured. “No… God, please, don’t talk about Clark Kent jumping me.”

My cousin, the traitor, burst into a peal of laughter. She’d been doing that a lot. When she saw the expression on my face, she immediately sobered. “Okay, right, this isn’t funny. It’s just… if you had any idea the number of times I’ve walked in on you guys….”

“Stop!” I held up my hand. I wasn’t too proud to beg, if I had to. “Just stop talking.”

“Look, Lois, I get that this is hard for you. But I do think that it’s best if you stay here.”

I considered her for a moment. Chloe had look on her face that she gets when she’s really determined about something. People say I’m stubborn, but the fact is that my cousin is a hell of lost more stubborn than I am. Once she gets something in her head, nothing can make her change her mind or convince her she’s wrong. And, in this case, she had a whole slew of people backing up her insanity. Clark, the doctor, even Ollie – all of them were determined to make me live a life of which I had no memory. It was time I conceded defeat.

“Okay, fine.” I nodded to show her that I was going to stay. I added, “I still think you guys are all crazy.”

“I know.” For the first time, she looked sympathetic. With a quick hug, she made her way to the door. “I’ll stop by to see you tomorrow. Make sure you get some rest.”

I was only alone for about thirty seconds before Clark reappeared in the kitchen. The room, which had felt spacious before, suddenly shrunk down a few sizes. I looked him over and was struck anew at how huge he was. He was no longer wearing his work clothes. He’d changed into a dark gray t-shirt and jeans. It was a bit disconcerting to see him without his trademark red and blue. Apparently, he’d decided to start dressing like a grown-up at some point in these past two years. It was a good look on him, I decided, but didn’t voice my approval out loud.

As I was sizing him up, Clark was doing some sizing up of his own. And he’d decided I looked exhausted, because he broke the silence to ask, in a concerned tone, “Do you want to rest? Lie down? Take a nap?”

“No,” I answered, even though I really was tired. But I was also strangely pumped up with adrenaline at the same time. “I’m sick of lying down and resting.”

“Do you want me to make you something to eat?” Clark pulled open the refrigerator door and surveyed the contents. “I can heat up some of the spaghetti from a couple of nights ago.”

I felt uneasy. The thought of sharing spaghetti with Clark in a house we apparently lived in together was a picture of domestic bliss that I was not comfortable with. “No, I’m not hungry.”

Clark closed the refrigerator door and let out a sigh. One those sighs that was usually followed up with him saying my name. Sure enough, there it came.

“Lois….”

“Smallville,” I countered, before he could finish his thought.

One corner of his mouth pulled up into a tiny smile at that. “Yes?”

I was distracted by the way he was looking at me. “What?”

“You said my name,” Clark reminded me.

“You said mine first,” I replied, by way of explanation. I really had nothing to say, I just said his name so I’d head him off at the pass.

If he thought my explanation was incomplete, he didn’t show it. Instead, he crossed the distance between us in the room easily – a couple of steps and there he was, standing a mere six inches away. Almost as a reflex, I took a few steps back and then was forced to stop when I hit the wall just behind me. My attempt to put more space between us failed, because he just moved forward, so he was even closer and now I didn’t really have anywhere to go, either, since he was blocking my only escape route. As I mentioned before, he’s kind of huge.

“Um…” I swallowed. “Personal space breach.”

Clark looked down at me, looking a bit surprised at what I’d said. But – amazingly – didn’t move away. Instead, he kind of smiled and said, “This is not a personal space breach, Lois.” His eyes strayed to my lips and he added, “This is.”

Before I could respond, he’d dipped his head down and he was kissing me. His arms were bracketed on either side of me, so I was pressed against the wall and had nowhere to go. Not that I was making any move to go anywhere. My mind was saying, _Oh my God, you’re kissing Clark Kent. Stop it_. But, for some bizarre reason, my body was shifting closer to him and saying, _My God, that feels so good, don’t stop._

I must have bumped my head a lot harder than I thought, because my body was definitely overpowering my brain at the moment. Almost of their own accord, my arms went around his neck and drew him in even closer, my lips opening under his and allowing him easier access. It was like all he’d been doing was waiting for me to ask, because he immediately responded by grasping a hold of my hips and pressing me flush against him. I could feel every inch of his very… impressive… reaction to the kiss and that, amazingly enough, was just what my brain needed to take over.

I brought my hands back down from his neck and put them both flat against his chest, pushing slightly as I pulled my head back, breaking the kiss. I didn’t know whether to laugh or smack him at the bemused expression on his face.

“Clark…” I started and then winced, because my voice was doing that breathy thing I hate. I cleared my throat and said more firmly, “That cannot happen again. I know you’re under the mistaken impression I’m your girlfriend, but….”

“I’m not under the mistaken impression you’re my girlfriend,” Clark cut in and shifted aside, so I could move past him. His expression changed to one of annoyance. “I know you’re my girlfriend.”

Thinking back to all the information I’d gotten from Chloe, Oliver, and even Martha Kent (a quick phone call to DC confirmed Clark’s story), I had to admit he had a point. Not that I was going to admit that out loud.

“Well,” I finally said, deciding on a compromise, “Let’s just put it this way. A version of Lois Lane is your girlfriend. I’m not that version.”

“There’s only one version, Lois,” Clark snapped back, raking his hand through his dark hair and letting out a sigh of frustration. “And you’re it.”

So, apparently, he wasn’t going to work with me. Talk about unreasonable. I mean, the last time I went to bed, I had the hots for my billionaire ex-boyfriend. Now, suddenly, I was in a kitchen with the guy who used to be one of my very platonic best friends and I was supposed to be cool with playing tonsil hockey? Admittedly, it was good tonsil hockey, but still.

“Tell you what, Clark,” I offered, deciding to be magnanimous. “When version 2.0 shows up, you can make out with her to your heart’s content. Version 1.0? She’s going to sleep.” With that, I turned to go upstairs to the spare bedroom. Glancing over my shoulder, I added, “And don’t follow me.”

***

 

After a fairly decent nap, I woke up ravenous. Having eaten nothing but hospital food for twenty-four hours, the pasta Clark had mentioned earlier was starting to sound really good. I glanced at the clock. It was still pretty early – about ten. I could get something to eat and then go back to sleep.

I managed to make my way down to the kitchen, heat up a bowl, and take a few bites without waking Clark up. I was just about to head back upstairs, when I bumped into Clark, who was apparently coming down to check on me. I took in his sleeping attire, with some surprise. Gray pajama bottoms and a white t-shirt. How weird. Even his sleeping clothes didn’t have color.

He took in the bowl in my hand and smiled. “You decided to eat. Good.”

“Yeah, well…” I shrugged. “Mrs. K’s pasta. Can’t dangle that in front of me and not expect me to take the bait.”

“My mom didn’t make that. I did.” Clark finished coming down the stairs and led me to the living room, settling me down on the sofa before I even knew what was happening.

“You did?” I asked, with more than a little surprise. “Since when did you become such a good cook?”

“Well, one of us has to be,” Clark answered, teasingly. He sat down next to me and grabbed my fork, taking a bite of the pasta. He swallowed and added, “Or all we’d eat is take-out.”

That was just a whole lot of “us-es” and “we’s” for one sentence. Way too much for me. Overwhelmed, I shoveled another forkful of spaghetti in my mouth, hoping that would dissuade him from continuing the conversation. And, added bonus, I’d finish the food quicker, which would let me escape upstairs all that much faster.

Clark watched me attempt to inhale my food for a second and then got up to go the kitchen. I let out a relieved sigh, which was cut off when he re-appeared with a glass of water. Silently, he handed it to me. I glanced up at him in surprise, but took it from him. After a minute, I’d finished off the pasta and the water, avoiding his gaze the whole time. I stood up to take the dishes back to the kitchen.

“I’ll take it,” Clark offered. “You rest.”

“No, that’s fine,” I insisted, holding onto the plate and glass. “I’ll do it.”

“Lois.”

I bit back a smile. “Clark.”

We stared at each other for a second and then, finally, he stepped back and let me pass by. After I’d finished rinsing the dishes and put them away in the dishwasher, I turned to head back upstairs. I found that I had to pass by him to make it there, and he was standing next to the mantelpiece. Suddenly feeling bad for everything I was putting him through (and, also, feeling a whole lot better with a full stomach), on an impulse, I went up to him to say goodnight. And then stopped when I saw what he was looking at.

There, sitting in the place of honor where Lana’s picture used to rest, was a picture of the two of us. At a picnic. I knew that I was probably gaping in shock, but I couldn’t help it. Clark turned to me and caught my look. “What?”

I adjusted the expression on my face. “Uh… nothing.”

Clark tilted his head and studied me for a moment. “Did you remember something?”

I hated the note of hope I heard in his voice. And I hated that I had to dash the hope. “No, I didn’t.”

“Okay.” He tried to hide his disappointment, but I could sense it, anyway.

“I just wanted to say good-night,” I said to him, after a moment of silence. “And… well… thanks.”

“For what?” Clark asked, looking genuinely confused.

“You know, the food… the house.” I shrugged and tried to articulate how I felt. Which was never easy, but – in this case – was almost insanely hard. “For letting me stay here while I figure things out. I appreciate it.”

Clark didn’t appear to be gratified by my speech or even remotely moved. If anything, he looked a little irritated. “Why are you thanking me for letting you stay in your own house? And letting you eat your own food?”

That hadn’t exactly been the reaction I’d been expecting. Usually, he was always very sweet when I thanked him for things. I’d say thanks, he’d make a snarky comment, we’d exchange banter and then I’d punch him in the arm. It was all very predictable.

“Well… um…” I said, starting to feel a little annoyed, myself. At him or me, I couldn’t tell. “I mean, what do you expect me to say?”

“Lois,” Clark said, stepping a bit closer to me, but not too close. Maybe he remembered my personal space issues. “You don’t understand. If you go upstairs, to our bedroom….”

My eyes opened wide at that and I gulped. Audibly.

Clark noticed my reaction, because he repeated, deliberately, “Yes, our bedroom, you’ll see all your clothes in the closet. And your stuff is all over the house and there’s about twenty boxes of your stuff in the loft. You pay one-third of the mortgage on this place and buy half the food. It’s your house as much as it’s mine.” Clark stopped and then added, softly, “It’s our house.”

Inexplicably, I zeroed in on the one thing I felt I could handle. “Who pays for the other third?”

With a puzzled frown, he answered, “My mother. She stays here when she’s in Kansas.” Clark added, dryly, “In the bedroom you just took a nap in.”

Feeling my legs give out under me, I sat down on the coffee table with a thump. All these images started swirling around in my head, no matter how much I wanted to stop them. Smallville and I, sharing his old room. The one I used to kick him out of when I stayed here before. Making dinner together, going to work together (because I’d been informed that it wasn’t enough that I lived with Clark, apparently, I worked with him, too) and having my picture on his mantelpiece. Martha Kent being okay with us sharing a bedroom while she was just down the hall. Amazingly, it was that one thought I couldn’t move past. My lips twitched and I let out a peal of laughter.

“What’s so funny?” Clark asked, frowning a little.

“I just….” I shook my head and doubled over, caving into the desire to laugh at the absurdity of it all. “I can’t….” I stopped and laughed again. Finally, after a second, I wiped at the tears in my eyes and explained, “Your mom is cool about the room situation?” I couldn’t bring myself, even now, to describe it as us sleeping together or sharing a room. That was a lot more intimate of a description than I could handle.

With a small smile, he sat down on the sofa next to the table where I was sitting. “Not in the beginning. But she came around.” He grabbed my hand and laced his fingers with mine. “I think that if you asked my mom to go the moon, she’d do it. She really loves you.”

I looked down at our hands, his larger one encasing mine, and swallowed. “Well, I love your mom a lot, too. I guess some things don’t change.”

“No, they don’t.” Clark’s statement seemed to be about much more than just my feelings for his mother.

I was silent, not knowing how to respond in a way that would make him happy. The fact was that Clark was a very good friend. He’d always been there for me when I needed him. Not that I need him often – I’m not a very needy person, after all. But, in those rare instances where I needed a shoulder to cry on, he’d provided that shoulder. So, it’s not like I was oblivious to his pain. I could tell he was hurting, but I felt helpless to do anything about it. Because what he wanted from me was something I couldn’t give him.

“Clark, we need to talk.” I hated myself for using the cliché phrase, but I guess there’s a reason it’s a cliché.

Clark, for his part, didn’t seem the least bit concerned. “You’re right, we do.”

I started to say, “I don’t think I can do this….” At the same time as he started to say, “I think you should sleep in our room.”

“What?” I exclaimed, pulling my hand out from his and leaping off the table. I scrambled back. “God, no! What are you… how can you… no!”

Clark didn’t look offended by my lack of enthusiasm for his offer. In fact, he looked amused. “This is interesting. Usually you’re so blasé about these sorts of things.”

“What kind of things? Sleeping with my best friend?” I really didn’t know how to take that. In fact, I think I felt kind of insulted. “I don’t make it a habit to go around doing that, Smallville.” Then I kind of hesitated, a horrible thought occurring to me. “I mean, do I?” What if I’d turned into a slut in the past two years? God, that would suck.

“Well, I guess it depends on what you call a habit,” Clark answered, his amusement turning into full fledged laughter.

I gave him a look, showing him that I wasn’t in the mood for his usual torture. “What the hell does that mean?”

With some difficulty, he schooled his features into an expression of seriousness. “If you’re asking if you go around sleeping with random people, you don’t. If you’re asking me if you make it a habit to sleep with your best friend, then – I guess – yeah, you do.”

He was giving me that look again. The one that made it seem like he could see through my clothes and be able to tell me the color of my underwear. I’d been on the receiving end of this look before. Once. When Clark thought Lana was dead and kind of lost his mind temporarily. But I’d never been subjected to it on a near constant basis, which had been the case since he’d shown up in my hospital room this morning.

My reaction, a few months ago (in my own timeline), had been to slap him the last time he’d done it. Mainly because the look had been followed up by a smack on my bottom. But, now, I really couldn’t slap him, could I? Because, for all intents and purpose, he thought he was allowed to look at me that way.

In an effort to re-gain control of the conversation, I brought up the one person who could usually wipe Clark of any other thoughts. “So, where is Lana?”

Sure enough, I could see Clark take a step back, emotionally, and kind of cloak himself; his expression going back to typical inscrutable mode. “What?”

“Lana,” I repeated. “You know, dark hair, pretty brown eyes, about yay high?” I raised my hand to indicate a space about half a foot shorter than my own height. “Love of your life?”

Clark did that thing he does where he kind of licks his lips nervously and glances away while he tries to figure out what to say. It’s quite cute, really, and there was a time I’d throw odd stuff out there just to see him react in that way. This time, I found myself a little annoyed by his familiar reaction. I mean, it’s somewhat disheartening to think that he was just trying to convince me to give his bed a try and, yet, can’t seem to bring himself to talk about his ex-girlfriend to me a couple of seconds later.

“She’s gone.” Clark didn’t infuse the simple statement with much emotion. It was almost as though he were telling me it was about to rain.

“Well, I figured,” I shot back, easily, with a quick grin. “But where is she? Is she Waldo? You must know where she is.”

“I’m not exactly sure where she is right now,” Clark answered, and it was clear he was being honest. “The last time we spoke, she was in China. But I doubt she’s there now.” He hesitated and then added, “She moves around a lot.”

I tried to absorb that information. It was clear he wasn’t telling me the whole story. Obviously, there was a lot more to it than that. But was I really in a position to push him? Maybe he’d already told me the story in detail and just didn’t feel like re-hashing it?

“Smallville, what does that mean?” I finally asked, thinking that he might as well tell the story twice if he’d already done it once. It wasn’t my fault I forgot it. “Why’d you guys break up? The last time, I mean.”

Clearly startled by my question, Clark stared at me for a second.

“What?” I asked, confused by his look.

“You’ve… you’ve never asked me that before,” Clark admitted. He glanced away and then back at me. “We never talk about Lana.”

Now it was my turn to be startled. That seemed a little bizarre. I wasn’t sure what my future self was smoking, but any woman who’d been around Clark for an extended period of time knew that he came with some serious baggage. Serious baggage named Lana Lang. I was finding it a little hard to believe that I’d sign up for that trip without checking to see if he was ready.

“Well, then, I guess there’s a first time for everything,” I said, kind of firmly, but also with a little amusement. He looked really uncomfortable and I always loved making him uncomfortable. I settled myself down on the stairs and looked up at him. “So, share, Smallville. What happened?”

Clark hesitated and gazed down at me, his lips tugged into a concerned frown. “Lois, what does it matter?”

“What does it matter?” I repeated and let out an incredulous laugh. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” I looked him over and saw that, indeed, he was very serious. “Clark, you’ve loved Lana for as long as I’ve known you. Longer, even. How can you think my question isn’t valid?”

“Because, it has nothing to do with us,” Clark answered. He walked towards me and pulled me up to a standing position. Since I was a few steps up, we were eye-to-eye, for once. “What happened between me and Lana is in the past. You’re my future.”

“Really?” I squinted at him dubiously. “So, what you’re saying is that if Lana Lang walked through that door and stood side-by-side with me, you’d choose me over her?”

Clark looked a bit amazed that I was asking that question. “Yes. Of course.”

I searched his face and saw that he really thought he was telling the truth. And, yet, I couldn’t wrap my mind around it. “Why?”

Clark frowned. “What do you mean?”

I rolled my eyes and let out a sigh, wondering why men were so incredibly obtuse. “Why would you choose me?” When he didn’t immediately answer, I added, “I mean, what is it about me that makes you go, ‘Yeah, Lois is the one.’?”

“Because you’re….” Clark stepped back and I could see him struggle to come up with the words to convince me. “You’re…Lois.”

I burst out laughing. “Thanks, Smallville. But I only lost two years worth of memories – I still remember my name.” Shaking my head a bit, I turned around and headed up the stairs towards Mrs. Kent’s room.

Unfortunately, Clark followed me into the room. Ignoring him, I started to go through the drawers and the closets, looking for something to sleep in. Clark hadn’t been kidding, though. Everything in the room belonged to Mrs. Kent. Apparently, I’d have to go his room to get my own things. Swallowing a bit, I sailed right past him to the other room to grab a pair of pajamas. Clark, who – even two years later – could be very annoying, followed me there, too.

Finally, I turned to him and snapped, “Do you mind? I am trying to go to sleep. I’m injured, remember?”

Clark looked a little guilty, but still asked me, “Lois, what do you want me to say?”

Inexplicably, my heart softened. “I don’t want you to say anything.”

“Yes, you do.” Clark looked troubled. “Do you want me to tell you I love you more than Lana? Because…”

“No!” I cut in, not really wanting to get into a pissing contest with a girl who wasn’t even there. And it wasn’t a pissing contest I was all that interested in winning, anyway. “It’s just….” I studied him for a moment. “The last time I was here? Lana was staying in this bedroom.” Indicating towards the drawer that I’d just pulled my flannel pajamas from, I added, “Her things were in this drawer.”

Clark glanced at the drawer and looked confused. “Okay….”

“And, in my world, that happened two days ago,” I added, gently. I really didn’t think he understood the magnitude of that. “Two days ago, Smallville. I mean, you might think that you’ve been dating me for three months or whatever, but I still think that Lana’s going to come bursting in here any second and ask me what the hell I’m doing with her boyfriend.”

“So, what, if I tell you why Lana and I broke up, it’ll help you get past that?” Clark asked, with a hint of annoyance.

To be honest, I couldn’t blame him for being annoyed. So, I told him, honestly, “No. You’re right – the reason you guys broke up doesn’t matter. Because, at the end of the day, you’ll always love her, anyway.”

Without waiting for a response, I went past him to go change in the bathroom, confident that it was the one place he wouldn’t follow me. I needed space. I needed to breathe and try to get control of myself. My head was hurting where the stitches were and I could really use a good dose of pain killers. I mentally reviewed the last time I’d had them and sighed with relief when I realized I could take the next dose.

I quickly pulled off my wrinkled jeans and t-shirt, swapping them for my ultra-comfortable Minnie Mouse flannels. Then, I looked in the mirror and almost let out a shriek at horrible I looked. Dark smudges underscored both eyes, and my hair was a mess. I was also a couple of shades paler than usual, which made my skin a stark contrast to the brunette hair I was now sporting. Taking a moment to splash some cold water on my face, I wondered if the pain medication had already made it into the medicine cabinet. After drying myself off, I pulled open the door to check and gasped. The medicine was there, but that’s not what made me pause. The whole cabinet was full of my stuff – my creams, face wash, and other toiletries. Even – my face flushed as I saw this – a box of tampons. And a packet of birth control pills.

Blindly, I grabbed the pain killers and shook a pill out, gulping down the medicine and closing the cabinet as quickly as I could. Then, after a second, I pulled it open again long enough to grab my brush and then began working the bristles through my hair. When my hair was smooth and shining again, I gazed at myself critically in the mirror and my reflection grinned back at me. The dark hair looked nice. I had dyed it blonde, back in the day, to annoy my father. I was kind of glad I’d decided to put that moment of teenage rebellion behind me, because my natural color did suit me better. Grabbing a hair clip that sat on the sink’s edge, I pulled my hair into a loose twist and clipped it.

Feeling much better, I opened the bathroom door and stepped, almost letting out a yelp of surprise when I bumped into Clark. He grasped my arms to hold me steady, keeping me from falling.

“Smallville!” I cried out, re-gaining my balance and straightening up. “What the hell?”

Clark looked completely unrepentant. “I was just about to come in – I was worried about you. You were in there for a long time.”

“I was getting freshened up,” I explained, even though I was kind of wondering why I felt the need to explain.

Clark looked me over, taking in my pajamas and the hair, and then he smiled. “You look nice. I like it when you put your hair up.”

“Do you?” My lips tugged into a reluctant smile. I couldn’t help it. I mean, when you look as crappy as I did and a guy tells you look nice, how can you not react to that?

“I do.”

Clark hesitated and, then, kind of cautiously, he stroked back a few strands of hair that had fallen out of my loose twist and tucked them behind my ear. I could feel my skin tingle in response to his light touch and every nerve ending of my body was tensed for a flight. Clark must have sensed that, because he let his hand drop and he shifted away from me a bit. I let out the breath I hadn’t even realized I’d been holding in.

But, Clark – being Clark – wasn’t done, yet. “Lois, I’ve been thinking and I do think you should stay in our room.”

“I’m not sleeping with you, Smallville,” I answered, flatly and turned away from him to go back to his mom’s room.

“I’m not asking you to,” Clark protested and, as I’d kind of expected, followed me to the bedroom down the hall.

I whirled around and faced him. “Then what?”

“You stay in our room and I’ll sleep in my mom’s room.” Clark let out a sigh of frustration and gazed down at me with an unreadable expression. “Look, the doctor said you should stick to your normal routine. Maybe… maybe if you sleep in your own bed, then you’ll wake up tomorrow and kind of….”

“What, magically recover?” I asked, dryly. “I don’t think that’s how it works.”

“No one knows how it works, Lois,” Clark countered. “It might.”

I appraised him for a moment and tried to figure out what to say. In some weird way, his logic was… well… it was logical. But I really didn’t want to sleep in his room. What I’d said to him earlier about Lana was still true. The last time I’d been over at their house, Lana had asked me to grab something from her bedroom for her while she made some sandwiches for us. And, so, the last time I’d been in that bedroom, it really had belonged to her. To her and Clark. And there was just something really creepy about going there to sleep now, in hopes that I’d wake up with the bedroom belonging to me.

Suddenly, a thought struck me. “Smallville, I have a question for you.”

Apparently thinking that I’d finally decided to embrace this new found life of mine, Clark smiled and said, “Sure, ask me anything.”

“In a lot of ways, Lana and I are polar opposites.” With some amusement, I watched as his smile faded as soon as I brought up Lana’s name. But I pressed on. “We’re as different as two women could possibly be. How’d you go from Lana to me?”

Clark must have been getting used to me quizzing him about Lana, because it only took him a second to ask, “Are you both really that different?”

My mouth dropped open. “Are you kidding me?”

Clark laughed. “Yeah, I am.” Then, he turned serious, “I don’t know, Lois. I mean… I… you’re….”

“If you say, ‘you’re Lois’ again, I just want you to know I’ll be forced to kick your ass,” I interjected. “I hate to break it to you, but my name is a proper noun - not an adjective. As a person who writes for a living, you should know that.”

Clark nodded and looked down, clearly hiding a grin. When he glanced back up at me, he pointed out, “You’ve been known use it as a verb.”

Cute. Really cute. Clark does that sometimes. I’ll think I’ve got the upper hand of the conversation and then he’ll just pull something out that trumps whatever I was going to say. Making a face, I said, “It’s different if I’m doing it. Obviously.”

This time, he didn’t hide his grin. “Obviously.”

“Anyway, you can ponder that question and get back to me later, if you want.” Knowing Clark, it would take hours of moping and brooding in the loft before he could even begin to formulate why he went from Lana to me. “And, while you’re doing that, I have another question.”

This time, Clark was smart enough to look wary. “Okay. What?”

“After five years, what made you decide that we should be more than friends?” My question wasn’t really a challenge. I was genuinely curious about this. Clark and I had hung out for years and although I was attracted to him from time to time (after all, I’m not blind. He’s gorgeous.), I never really thought about acting on any latent attraction there might be. Like, literally, the thought hadn’t even occurred to me. And I figured the same was true for him. “So, what happened? You just woke up one day and decided I was girlfriend material?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Clark pointed out. “I mean, you woke up one day and decided I was boyfriend material.”

“You could,” I agreed. “But since I can’t remember the past couple of years, we’ll just have to rely on your memory.”

Clark let out a long-suffering sigh. “Lois, I can’t answer that question.”

“Why not?”

“Because…” Clark shook his head. “I don’t know. I don’t exactly know when things changed and I…”

“Wait, let me get this straight,” I interrupted, holding up my hand. “You can’t tell me why you and Lana broke up. You can’t tell me what made you go from Ms. Cheerleader to Ms. Army Brat. You also can’t tell me when things changed between us.” I stared at him for a second, shaking my head in exasperation. “Look, I’m not sure what Version 2.0 needed, but 1.0? I’m going to need a hell of a lot more than ‘you’re Lois’ to be swept off my feet!”

“Lois!” Clark grasped my shoulders urgently. “That’s not….”

“Really don’t care, Clark.” I shrugged his hands off and then kind of pushed him towards the door. He didn’t protest or argue, so it worked. (Because, God knows, I wouldn’t be able to toss him around if he didn’t let me.) After a second of maneuvering, I had him out in the hallway. Then, I stared up at him and said, “Tell you what, Smallville. You answer those two questions for me? I’ll sleep in your bed. Hell, I might even let you join me. Until then, I’m camping out here.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but I slammed the door shut before he could. And, then, I grinned. Knowing Clark, I’d just bought myself at least another month.


End file.
